


Move a Little Closer

by Kayasurin



Series: Turn a Little Faster [4]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, More characters to be tagged as they come, Pre-Slash, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin
Summary: After Persephone's party, Jack and Aster start getting closer. Snapshots of that year.Collection of drabbles set in this series, all pre-romance.





	1. Heartfelt Apology

"Jack?" Aster peered around a bookshelf, ears twitching at every whisper of sound. "You here, mate?"

The library was empty, most of the lights turned off. There was a faint hum from the few left on; fluorescents were annoying. The place smelt like dust, paper, carpet that hadn't been cleaned enough, and spilled printer ink. If things had been otherwise, Aster would've been happy to set up camp in the stacks and not leave for a few months.

Say what you would about human sciences, but their fiction books were entertaining.

"Bunny?" Jack poked his head up above a bookshelf several rows down. "Huh, it is you. What're you doing here?"

Aster tucked his hands up against his chest, like a regular cottontail would when sitting on its haunches. "Looking for you. If, ah, you're not too busy?"

Jack got that expression again, the one he'd worn frequently after they'd attended Persephone's party together. Then he dropped down out of sight, and when he sauntered back into view, that odd expression was gone. "Yeah, wasn't really doing anything. You need something?"

Aster shook his head. Yes, so far all he'd done was seek Jack out when the young man was late for meetings or if he needed a favour, but that wasn't a _requirement_ , was it? "Not exactly. I was hoping to talk to you?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked down at the carpet. Blast, but this was hard.

Jack walked closer, the only noise the soft shush-shush of his pants legs rubbing against each other. "Talk to me about what?" he asked, and ducked to peer up at Aster.

Aster hesitated. He'd already said - but it'd been hungover and pained, and he hadn't known Jack nearly as well as he did now. Not that he'd pretend to know Jack, but - not the point. The point was, he'd said what he'd said more because he'd felt it expected than because he'd actually _meant_ it.

"I owe you an apology, mate," he said, managing to look up at Jack despite his greater height. "A real one, I mean. For how I treated you before you joined us Guardians."

"Bunny," Jack said, eyebrows furrowing in what looked like pain. "You don't have to -"

"Maybe I don't have to." He looked down again, and took a deep breath. "But I need to. I _am_ sorry, Jack. There was no reason and no right to treat you the way I did, especially not for our first meeting when you'd literally done nothing to me but say hello. So. I'm sorry."

Jack was silent for a decently slow count of ten. Just before Aster tucked his proverbial tail and ran, though, the young man stepped forward, and grabbed him in a hug.

"You're forgiven," he said, and stepped back. "Anyways, I got my own back, I figure that brings us closer to even than anything."

He paused, and added, "And I'm sorry too. You know, for the snowballs."

* * *

 

Word count: 500 exactly.


	2. Party

It was a party in name only; a gathering of winter spirits, with Jack as the unhappy referee.

At least no one had tried to kill their neighbour yet. Early times, though. This group was a mixed bag of little match girls, rusalka, frost sprites, and Phil, representing the yeti. The person who looked the most threatening was Phil, of course, but the most dangerous person in the group - save Jack - had to be one of the 'ghosts', either the rusalka or the little match girls.

Speaking of... Jack meandered his way towards a gathering of match girls and rusalka, two of each talking intently about something. It could be innocent, no one was bleeding, but balance of probability said it wasn't.

"-interested in children," he caught one match girl saying, with a provocative stance that was... really quite wrong, considering she looked like she was seven years old. She was smiling. A lot of teeth were showing.

"Not in that way," one of the rusalka said. She looked like a well-developed sixteen, which was still too young for the filmy strips of fabric that were keeping her decent. Well, sort of decent. "Protects children, but doesn't fuck them."

"Pity," the second match girl said. She looked a little older than her companion, maybe nine. Her smile had fangs. Jack tightened his grip on his staff. The first match girl had human-teeth, which meant she hadn't - yet - outright killed a person. The second one, however, had.

"Best way to get that sort close," the second rusalka agreed. She was a dark-haired twin to the first, right down to how they'd draped their fabric strips. "Get 'em between your legs, and then..." She snapped her teeth in unsubtle suggestion.

The group broke off laughing. "Hell," the first match girl said, "Bunnymund's supposed to be the head of spring. He'd probably be decent enough in the sack not to waste with eating."

Jack blinked, and blinked again. "Bunny wouldn't ever go for any of you," he said, even as he was mentally trying to find his feet. "Anyone stupid enough to have sex with a winter spirit is asking for it, and Bunny wouldn't go for anyone who looks as young as the lot of you do, anyways."

The match girls scowled at him. "And how would you know?" the second one asked.

Jack pointed his staff at her. "Guardian now, remember? You go after Bunny..." Quick, a threat, a - ahah. "He'd probably give you a second life. Mortal all over again."

She looked doubtful, but backed up a step. "That's impossible. No one can do that."

"Are you sure?" Jack smiled, and shook his head. "Don't go after Bunny. You won't like the results."

* * *

 

458 words. Part of me feels like it should be called "Gossip" instead.


	3. Illogical

Jack hadn't been able to shake the thoughts, not since the winter gathering when the match girls had planted them. The other winter spirits had been talking about Bunny, as if he'd be... interesting to have in bed. Considering most winter spirits only had sex in order to eat their partner, the fact that they'd been talking about letting Bunny live after had been interesting.

Not that Bunny would ever touch them. Rusalka and little match girls were always adolescents, or even children. Besides, now that Jack was paying attention, Bunny didn't seem interested in anyone, that way.

Jack couldn't figure out why anyone would want to romance Bunny, or have a one-night stand, or anything. The animal spirits didn't want anything to do with him, it was all the human and humanoid spirits that were looking.

It just didn't make any sense. Sure, Bunny was tall, and broad shouldered, but he was furry, had rabbit ears and a muzzle. He was blunt to the point of rude, easily distracted, borderline vindictive sometimes, and had worse social skills than Jack did.

But... Well, Jack had noticed other things, too. Like the fact that Bunny didn't like social gatherings, but when he thought no one was looking he looked nervous, unsure, not grumpy. He often made faces after he'd said something especially blunt, and if Jack was going to describe the expressions as anything, it'd probably be as a "what did I just say?" confusion, occasionally with a touch of horror.

As for the borderline vindictive part, well, Jack wasn't going to cast stones. He could be a bit vicious himself, he could understand someone else being a bit nasty too. And Bunny was easily distracted by bringing up Easter which, well, Easter was his job. If he messed it up, the whole believer catch would take effect and Bunny would lose magical power and strength. So yeah, of course he'd pay attention to anything to do with Easter first.

And since Jack was paying attention, he noticed other things, too. Like when Bunny would leave chocolate samples out for North when their Russian companion had a bad day. Or the herbal powders for the yeti, when they inevitably got fleas. He'd sneak in and take care of Tooth's gardens without her asking, or even knowing he was there. He and Sandy hung out a lot, just relaxing in each other's company.

Jack didn't know if Bunny had done all that before Pitch's little shake up - probably hadn't - but Bunny was doing it now, and it was nice.

He even thought Bunny was trying to find something to do for Jack, or with Jack. He'd seen a lot of the rabbit recently, and they didn't even fight. It was nice, if weird, and the visits were kept short.

So Jack watched, trying to figure out what everyone else saw. He didn't think he figured out what the others noticed, but he was starting to see something worth looking at.

* * *

 

500 words


	4. Rivalry

Some days, it just didn't do to show up at North's Workshop. Aster gritted his teeth at the particularly high-pitched whine of a band saw. What were the yeti doing, building a whole new wing? And with outdated, near-broken machinery as well? There had to be something better to use than _that_.

"Oh, preparing for Christmas," North said, when asked. He grinned, eyes twinkling in the midnight sunlight. It was well into summer now, and North was looking a little sleep deprived. "Must get the big stuff done quickly, yes, so as to have time to attend to little details later."

Aster shook his head. "Guess it's easy t'do when your work doesn't have a best before date. Good thing, too; speed your yobos move at would wreck you if you had a crunch time."

North frowned. Aster grinned. It was at least an hour before anyone else showed up. Time to kill and a good blue with North was just the ticket.

* * *

 

163 words - I guess I wasn't feeling this one.

Have a second chapter because of this.


	5. Summer Haze

"Bunny!" Jack spun around, and grinned. "What're you doing here?"

Aster smiled back, hands tucked up against his chest, like wild rabbits were prone to do. Nervous tick in his case, though, instead of just physiology. "Just poking around. Looking for plant samples. You? Bit warm, isn't it?"

"Nah." Jack leaned sideways against his staff, the warm breeze ruffling his hair. He looked a bit odd, all pale colours, surrounded by the rich greens and golds of the long grass in the field. And yet he looked exactly right at the same time, belonging to the field with his bare feet and shepherd's crook, in a way that Aster never would.

"I'm not actually bothered by the heat," Jack said, and Aster had to mentally scramble for a moment. What were they talking about? Oh, right. "It just means I'm more limited in my magic."

Wisps of water vapour spun above Jack's outstretched hand, before vanishing in the sunlight.

"Right, makes sense. Just figured, well, other winter spirits..." Aster ducked his head a little. "But I suppose you wouldn't come out here if it bothered you."

"I could be a masochist." Jack looked upwards at the sky, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm not, but it could be an option, you never know."

"Best that you're not, I think." Aster walked closer, relaxing when Jack didn't chase him away. The young man's expression stayed welcoming, too, not a friendly mask. "Seen any, ah, any flax? I'm re-doing some old pictures," he explained, when the winter spirit raised his eyebrows. "They get old. I prefer to re-draw everything instead of..."

He waved one hand, almost groping for the correct word.

"Laminating everything?" Jack suggested. "And no, I haven't, but I also wasn't looking. C'mon, this is all hay over here."

Grass was grass, and Aster could honestly say he had no idea the difference between the different types. He didn't say so, and simply followed Jack across the field to where it edged something a little more varied, a handful of trees scattered about.

"This is where they graze the sheep, or maybe the goats," Jack said, and peered at a stalk of not-yet-flowering goldenrod. "Don't ask me why they don't have a fence, though. Guess the dogs have been enough so far."

Aster shifted a clump of regular grass out of the way, and frowned. Flowering, yes, blue, yes, flax, no. Moving on. "How'd you learn so much about herding?"

"Hah!" Jack bent down, staff clamped tight beneath one arm. "I was a shepherd, before," he said, obviously meaning before he'd... died, and come back. "Here!"

He turned, a handful of flax, blue flowers still in full bloom, and held the cluster out towards Aster. The flowers were nearly the same shade as his eyes in this light, and he beamed with simple joy at his successful find.

 _Oh_ , Aster thought, as his heart seemed to skip a beat. _Oh no_.

"Thanks, mate."

* * *

 

498 words.


	6. Seeking Solace

The air was hot, humid, and pressed heavy against Jack's skin. Everything smelled like the big-blossomed flowers that crowded in through the windows, a riot of reds and oranges tipped in violet. Ice water beaded on the back of Jack's hands, dripped down his wrists.

Tooth sat beside him, close enough to reach out and touch, but far enough away he didn't feel crowded. "It is terrible," she agreed. "But, Jack... vengeance isn't your job."

"I know. I do. That's why I'm here." Instead of out there... hunting.

If it'd been a spirit, he wouldn't have retreated to Tooth's palace. He'd have been out there, and the culprit would have been dealt with in hours of the child's death. Instead, humans preying on humans... No, it wasn't his job to deal with this.

However much he wanted to.

Tooth reached over and rested one hand on his arm. "It was wise of you, to remove yourself from the situation."

He didn't feel wise. Angry, ready to snap and lash out, yes, but wise? Then again, maybe wisdom was knowing when to back off.

"I think Chicago is still buried in snow," Jack admitted.

Tooth blinked. "Isn't it... It's August. That's summer up north."

He had to grin at her tone of voice. Tooth sounded very unsure, all of a sudden. "Yeah. Well. I may have lost my temper. A little bit."

Several of the mini-fairies flew in through the window, brushing past the flowers. Tooth paused the conversation long enough to give them their directions. It only took a few minutes. Jack watched, and tried to lose himself in the way the light made the fairies' feathers gleam. He was used to winter, in all its faces, and the way everything was so warm - not just the air, but the colours - was strange and wonderful.

But he couldn't lose himself in admiring his surroundings, or his company. Frost spread across his shoulders, before the heat melted it, and his sweater got just a little damper.

_"Jack, you can't spend all day out here with the sheep! I know you're angry, but -"_

_"It's here or fighting with Paul! I'll be fine. Go home already."_

_"... Fine. Be that way."_

No, this was hardly the first time his temper had gotten the better of him. But the stakes were so much higher now. Instead of punching people, he buried cities in unseasonal blizzards. How many people had gotten hurt because of that? People who'd gotten sick because they were wearing short sleeves in the sudden snow, car accidents because no one had expected the black ice in _summer_.

He didn't know. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Oh, Jack," Tooth whispered. She leaned over and wrapped him up in a hug. Jack gasped, her cheek pressed against his, her skin so very warm and soft. "It's alright. We all lose our temper. The important thing is to learn from it."

"I don't want to frighten people."

"I know."

* * *

 

500 words, although I just discovered Word counts everything connected by a hyphen - such as cling-wrap - to be one word. Oh well.


	7. Making History

It wasn't anything grandiose, nothing dramatic or, indeed, something the principle players thought much of, at the time or later.

No, it was those watching who noticed, who wondered, who looked at the event and contemplated the future.

Jack Frost, as respected as he was feared by the winter spirits, known for his laughter as well as his temper. And the Easter Bunny, a creature as mysterious as he was solitary - which was, of course, very. The herald of winter, the one whose grip was the last to ease over the world and the first to tighten upon it, and the guardian of spring who had driven more than one winter spirit away from what he considered his domain with knives and fists.

The one, raging and spitting, stalking back and forth as he snarled at his captive audience. They hadn't intended harm to a child, knowing what was most likely to make their volatile leader angry - but intentions mattered little to the end result.

The other, with the calm that came from an anger that had gone past blazing and straight into frozen, who regarded them with hard, unforgiving eyes. Eyes that softened only when his attention shifted to their leader, who continued to rant and rave, building to ever greater heights of painful imagination.

The subjects knew they were doomed, the only question was how they would go out. Several previous transgressors had been given to the Snow Queen, to forever decorate her ice garden. Others had simply vanished. Yet more hadn't vanished, but no one cared to think on their fates... though now it seemed they would join one of those lists.

Their leader spun and began to pace back, but the other stepped forward and into his path. The watchers cringed, expecting their leader's temper to be unleashed upon the other. It had happened before. Winter storms were not target-specific, and neither was their leader's temper.

And that was when it happened.

Jack Frost blinked up at the Easter Bunny, momentarily shocked out of his fury. And then, like a beam of sunlight making its way through storm clouds, he smiled.

The moment did not last long, only long enough for those watching to note it had happened at all. All too quickly, Jack Frost's smile fell away, leaving him to glare at his minions.

But with his temper briefly thawed, they made it out with their lives. And one hell of a story to tell the other winter spirits!

* * *

 

416 words


	8. Gateway

It'd been a while, since the last group meeting. A couple months - things had happened, they'd gotten busy. Tooth had to deal with some guy called the Monkey King (and Jack was of the opinion the only reason it'd taken her three months to kick his prehensile tail was because she kept having to pause the beatdown to give her mini-fairies orders on where to pick up the baby teeth) and Jack had to deal with reckless minions.

Sandy had dealt with an insomnia spirit or something. Kids - and adults - had spent a while wandering around on too little sleep. Jack and Tooth would've helped, but, well, the Monkey King and the minions had happened right about then, too, and by the time their problems were wrapped up, Sandy was swanning around, smirking with the cool satisfaction of someone who'd dealt with their own problem.

Bunny had been caught up with a spring thing, which was the politest description he'd used. North had been kidnapped Underhill. So a few months, since the Guardians had gotten together.

Jack was early for their meeting. Several days early. He was, well... He was testing something. Just to see. To try it out. Because before, with everyone meeting at North's for their monthly get togethers, he'd show up as part of the group. With Tooth, or Sandy, or even Bunny, or any combination thereof. Not alone. And during a meeting, he was expected, required even, so it wasn't like he could be locked out.

He wasn't expected now. He just... wanted to see what would happen. If he tried to go in.

Jack clutched his staff with both hands. Anyone else spent a couple hours standing at a door, not even the main, fancy door, but a smaller side door, would've been suffering hypothermia by now. It was cold up in the Arctic, even with the temperature doing its best to raise the sea level. Surely that couldn't be all human activity? Maybe he should check in on that. He could go right now -

No. Jack took a deep breath he didn't need, and glared at the door. He wasn't going to chicken out now. He was here. North was back, half self-rescue and half getting kicked out of Underhill for being Trouble. Jack even had a good excuse for being early; he was tired, and hungry, and homeless. North had said he could come, any time.

The door loomed over him, even though it wasn't that big. The taller yeti would have to duck, going through this door. Still. It loomed.

Jack reached out, and took hold of the handle. The door swung open without a sound, and he stepped in.

There was a yeti - he didn't recognize them - frowning at him. Jack tensed.

Finally the yeti gestured at the door. "Close it. You're letting the heat out."

"Not going to kick me out?"

The yeti snorted. "You're welcome here."

Jack blinked, and closed the door. Welcome...

* * *

 

500 words.


	9. Death

Autumn was a bit of a touchy subject, for Aster. He avoided thinking about the season as much as he could; harder now that he was leaving his Warren regularly, instead of emerging once every couple of years to get plant samples, and then spending the rest of his time working on his illustrations, his eggs, and foolish make-work. Before the hullabaloo earlier, with Pitch and Jack and his ruined holiday, Aster might have gone up topside Australia to stretch his legs, and enjoy the southern spring, but that'd been about it.

These days, of course, there were the monthly meetings, switching between North's and Tooth's places, since Sandy didn't have a permanent location, and Jack went wherever the wind took him, and Aster stubbornly refused to invite the others back to the Warren for a second visit. And he'd been pushing himself to be more social, trying to visit at least _one_ of his friends once a month. Jack, for some reason - okay, three centuries of abandonment as a reason - tended to get the most visits.

And Jack Frost was active in the northern autumn. Something Aster wished he'd remembered _before_ jumping topside for a visit.

It wasn't cold. At least, not with the sun shining. But the wind had a nip to it that had Aster hunching his shoulders, fur fluffing out in an instinctive reaction. He wasn't sure Jack would be here, but at the same time, there wasn't any reason why he wouldn't be. Burgess was Jack's favourite place to be.

He wandered along a walking path, the forest surrounding him, the trees muffling the sound of traffic. The plants, from the stately oaks, to the goldenrod growing in a soggy dip in the ground, all showed the first signs of their yearly slumber. The leaves were a riot of red and orange and yellow; while only a few had fallen to the ground, Aster could already see, in his mind's eye, the ground covered in a blanket of dead leaves.

It was a relief to step out from under the trees and onto the grassy verge of Jack's lake. At first glance, autumn had not yet touched this part of the woods, only the trees at the edges. The grass was still green, the water faintly scummy along the edges with thriving algae. Unfortunately, a third glance didn't reveal Jack's presence.

"Up here, Roo," Jack called. Aster turned and looked up into the branches of the largest oak in the forest, one that rose up several stories, and had branches spreading out far enough to shelter a house, complete with lawn. It would take three of Aster to ring the trunk and still be able to touch hands, and it'd be a stretch at that.

"What're you doing up there?"

Jack shrugged. "It's a good view."

Aster moved to lean against the tree trunk. "Nice spot," he said, already casting about for a conversation topic -

"They planted this tree over my grave."

* * *

 

500 words.


	10. Unsettling Revelations

"Your grave?" Aster looked up. Sure, he knew Jack had... died, to become a spirit. Hardly an unusual story, really. But... a grave?

And this wasn't a graveyard, he was fairly sure. There weren't any old stones, too regular in shape for nature to be responsible, for one thing. For another, weren't graveyards closer to town?

Jack laughed when Aster ventured to voice his questions. "We didn't have a church in our village. It was close enough to walk to the bigger one - that was the one called Burgess, actually." He stopped talking for a moment, staring up into the sky. "I don't actually remember my village's name."

Aster didn't know what to say. He settled for leaning harder against the tree, arms folded and head bowed, as if that could possibly help.

Maybe it did, since Jack started talking again. "They never - it's not like there was a body for them to pull out, and the lake's surprisingly deep, considering. No body, and the priest was... He didn't like me, you know? Too rowdy, too many questions for his taste, and he kept trying to get people to care that I... didn't like girls. Romantically."

"You don't?" But Jack - Tooth - Aster had thought -

"I mean, not really?" Jack looked down, and shrugged. "Women are attractive, sure, but marriage?" He shook his head. "Besides, I was the poor shepherd son of a poor farmer. By the time I could support a wife and family, I'd be old and gray. No one else cared that I'd either be single forever, or 'save money' by living with another man."

Pooka hadn't had those odd hangups about gender and sex humans had; like graves and graveyards, Aster had previously just... avoided those conversations and confrontations, for all that the spirit world was more... liberal and forgiving about that sort of thing. "You think he kept your family from burying you in the church graveyard because you're... homosexual?"

"Bisexual. And, I mean, maybe?" Jack shrugged, and dropped down out of the tree. Aster nearly jumped out of his fur. "My grave's out here, in the forest by the lake. See?"

He pushed a leafy branch out of the way, revealing a worn-down, carved stone. The blackberry bush was an old, thorny tangle, but that must have protected the gravestone somewhat, as the writing was still legible.

 _Jackson Michael Overland, 1691-1712_ , with no other writing. Aster looked up at Jack, who could've been staring at a stranger's grave.

"There was a girl," Jack said, and let the branch spring back into place. "She came out here, sometimes. She never saw me. I never remembered who she was."

He turned to Aster, then, and smiled. "So what brings you out here, Cottontail? Not to hear about my death, probably."

"I dunno," Aster said, and carefully reached over. Jack looked surprised at the arm over his shoulders, but didn't pull away. "I'm trying to get to know you, after all. This helps."

* * *

 

500 words


	11. April 1 - Pranks

"Hey guys," Jack said, a paper sack in one hand, staff in the other. "Sorry I'm late, I had to pick up a thing."

Bunny lifted a glass of orange juice off an elf-carried tray. "A thing?" he asked. His tone was mild, but the look he shot at the sack was anything but.

"Snacks!" Jack hopped up onto a chair, perched on the seat like a gargoyle, and set the sack on the table. "Long story short, favour owed, food safe to eat, but..." He rubbed the back of his neck with a now-free hand. "I'm not actually that big of a chocolate fan?" He looked over at Bunny. "Nothing against the stuff, it's just... either too sweet or too bitter for me."

Bunny stopped glaring at the sack. "What, really? What've you tried before? Dark chocolate? Milk? What fillings?"

"Bunny, stop interrogating Jack. Chocolates, Jack?"

"Those fancy moulded ones, Bunny," he said. "Help yourself. They're safe enough for kids to eat, even, so we should be fine."

North reached across the table, and emptied the paper sack onto a handy, cookie-crumb covered plate. "Individually wrapped?" he asked. The chocolates were vaguely egg shaped, although more oval than the ones Bunny left out for his holiday. Instead of patterned foil, each chocolate was wrapped with what looked like cling-film. They weren't very big, only the size of a grape, and the shades ranged from pale milk chocolate, to dark chocolate.

"Yup. Did you know Dryads have babies?" Sandy and Bunny nodded. Jack continued on as if he hadn't seen. "That big storm over in Greece a few days ago? They had to keep the babies distracted and in the caves somehow, so... chocolate. More than they could eat. Or want to, being trees..."

"So they had the little ones making chocolate?" Bunny picked up one, and paused, lips twisting as if he didn't know whether to smile or frown. "Seems a bit risky, what with the heat they needed."

"Well that's where them owing me a favour comes from, I got stuck with them and took care of the fire."

Tooth studied another chocolate, and unwrapped the film. "Well, it'd be a shame to let it go to waste. How bad could they be?"

"Not bad at all. There were some very detailed directions," Jack said. "I think even King Kangaroo would be pleased with how thoroughly they followed the directions."

Bunny flipped him off for the nickname. "Looks alright to me. Pity its chocolate."

"Less for you and more for the rest of us," North said, and unwrapped a chocolate. "Let us see how well the children made these."

North, Tooth, and Sandy popped the chocolates into their mouths and began to chew. And then paused.

"Didn't realize they had olive fillings?" Bunny asked, ears tilted forward. "I twigged on even through the plastic."

Tooth was the only one who swallowed. North spat his out and tossed it in the fireplace. Sandy just left his on the table.

* * *

500 words, my first entry for Jackrabbit week... uh, April 1. Yes, it's a bit late. -cough- Also, the Jackrabbit week prompts WON'T be 500 words max, so expect the numbers to fluctuate.


	12. April 2 - Periwinkle

For the most part, seeing auras really didn't mean anything. Tooth had, at one point, read the books on colour meanings, symbolism, how to tie it all into psychology... and after a century, tossed it aside as so much rot. The colours in a person's aura was highly subjective, after all. For the most part, the colours in auras didn't make sense until after she had gotten to know the person.

North, for instance, was red, which was probably expected, and green, which probably would have surprised people. There was very little blue or white, but there was a wide streak of black. For North, red was the colour of blood and of his homeland, of his role as Santa, and the colour of his favourite fruits. Green, for him, stood for his role in winter; the Christmas tree brought indoors, but also green had come to represent generosity to North, and so there was a great deal of green in his aura. Black, for North, was grief - for lost friends and family, Santoff Clausen and every child who grew up and... settled. Lost their sense of wonder. But black also stood as the colour of intellect, for North, and mysteries. Black paired with red, with green curling through, that was how she saw North.

Sandy was almost too easy, for he was all the shades of yellow and black that there were. Where North's aura was solid, rarely changing, Sandy's never stopped changing. It reminded her of shimmer-cloth, what was now called shot silk. Sandy was the night, after all, but also dreams. Dreams of El Dorado, where everything was as precious as gold. But then, Sandy had also been... the not so nice dreams, before Pitch re-adjusted to be the Boogeyman. The dark yellows stood for those dreams, ill-gotten gains, or dreaming of escaping a terrible position with violence returned on the cause of their misery. Not all dreams were sunshine and glitter.

Bunny was as simple as a sturdy oak, as vivid as a sundew. The core of him was the rich, dark brown of good earth, fertile with possibilities. So many things could grow there, Bunny's creativity spilling out of his aura through his fingertips into the earth, into paint, into the odd occasion he cooked and baked. Far too rarely, that last; Bunny was a genius in the kitchen. Green, the same shade of curling ferns, stood for Bunny's social skills. Or perhaps, lack thereof. It took time for Bunny to uncurl, to stop flinching away from stray comments or too-loud laughter. Just as the Mimosa Pudica took repeated touches to stop curling away from a fingertip brushing along its branches. And, flitting through the darker greens and browns, were the vivid, almost painfully bright greens and yellows of poison and danger, Bunny's warrior nature, the vicious turns his temper could take.

Jack... it was hard to understand Jack, just yet. His aura shifted constantly, at once light, and then dark, like the clouds he directed. Deep, dark blues twisted and brightened into colours of periwinkle and from there to turquoise and from there back down to slate and shadows. White shot through his aura regularly, like lightning crackling through the clouds. Tooth had spoken to Jack enough to know that he was joy and temper, secrets - kept back behind his teeth, not yet trusting them with his history - and pranks. But what each colour meant, that she did not yet know.

She would, though. As she had with the rest of her friends. Tooth would simply have to get to know Jack, and the meanings of his aura would unfold in front of her eyes.

* * *

 

614 words - more than this challenge is meant for, but this is for Jackrabbit week. Then again, I expected to write something about the actual flowers, maybe flower crowns, next thing I know I'm writing character studies and auras and colours... Eeesh!

Also, yes, I know, I missed a week - I got stuck on April 7 - Free day, but now that's sorted and there will be a bit of a story arc for the rest of these prompts. No idea how long that'll take - once I'm done the Jackrabbit week prompts they go back to 500 words or less.


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